


And that's why he's like that

by frankenbolt



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Adoption, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21745243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankenbolt/pseuds/frankenbolt
Summary: Adoption ahoy!
Relationships: Vyvyan Basterd/Rick (Young Ones)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	And that's why he's like that

**Author's Note:**

> Bit of a silly one-shot based on the now canon idea that in Three Times Dead (my big Drop Dead Fred fic), that Vyv and Rick adopt James Acaster. 
> 
> So...obviously, that's who this kid is based on. This isn't the actual comedian, that'd be weird.
> 
> His name is James Pratt-Basterd. Poor...poor child.

They’d adopted James a year before they’d moved to the US.

Well. Rick had adopted him. Bloody Section 28.

“That only applies to schools and local councils, Vyvyan.” Rick had snottily replied as he dragged his long suffering life partner through another children’s home. The woman running the place had raised an eyebrow but with an apron pocket full of crisp bank notes she’d wittered on about how important a good male role model was and how nice it was for two...brothers to want to adopt a child.

“Right, I don’t suppose you’re all that fussed about the fact both our names can’t be on the certificate then?” Vyv scuffed his Doc Marten boots against the skirting boards. 

Rick had rolled his eyes and huffed, momentarily turning away from the task at hand. “Of COURSE I’m fussed. Obviously I’m more than fussed. But this isn’t about us having another piece of bougies legal paper cluttering up our home- this is about something bigger!”

“Oh here we bloody go.”

“There’s a child out there who needs a home! And we need to put aside our wants and needs to offer the poor little mite a chance. Children are our future, Vyv! We owe it to them to provide a safe, loving- SHIT! GET IT AWAY FROM ME! SHE’S LEAKING ONTO MY JEANS!”

A small girl with pigtails blinked up at the pair of them, having just rubbed her hand- stained in what had to be jam...hopefully- against Rick’s leg. At Rick’s outburst, her face crumpled and she immediately started crying.

“Now look what you’ve bloody done, you’ve gone and set it off!” 

“You’re the blimin’ pediatrician! Can’t you shut it off?”

With a grunt, Dr Basterd knelt down in front of the girl and fished in his pocket for a moment as she continued to wail. She immediately stopped when she saw what Vyv held out for her to take.

“Go on, clear off.”

As the girl scampered away, Rick looked at his partner in clear awe. “What on earth did you give her?”

“A fiver.”

“What?!”

“Well it’s either that or tellin’ her we’re keeping her, and I’m not having some kid who’s set off just by you screaming! What kind of life is that? The two of you would never stop screaming and I’ll lose what’s left of my bloody hair!”

“So you had more hair and you lost it?”

The ramp up to their argument slowly fizzled out as this slightly stuff-nosed voice interrupted them. Behind them, sat mid way up the stairs, was a small pale face looming out of the shadows. Their big brown eyes displayed only mild curiosity beneath a mop of unruly dark blonde hair. 

The face tilted behind the banister, and screwed his face up in momentary contemplation before continuing in a deadpan voice. “Mind you if was hair and I had to put up someone putting silly colours in me all the time I think I’d run away too.”

Rick creased up laughing at this, in the way that Vyvyan knew was entirely genuine and not that snotty little scoff or snort that he effected when laughing at his own jokes. The way that only he really got him to laugh when they were alone together. 

Vyvyan however, was unaffected, and stomped over to the little squirt, peering up at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“You think you can talk about hair, mate? Looks like you’ve got a cocker spaniel sleeping up there.”

The pale little face merely blunk lazily. “It’s a terrier, actually.”

Vyvyan smirked. “Let me guess, because you’re a right little terror?”

“No because it’s a better dog.” A pale hand appeared from the shadows and pet his own head.

“So, sweetie.” Rick had apparently gotten over his giggle fits and decided to join them. “What’s your name?”

“James. Don’t call me sweetie though. I’ve always thought I’m more of a savory person.” James paused and licked his bare arm thoughtfully. “Like a bag of cheese and onion crisps.”

“Well they are the nation’s favourite.”

James screwed his nose up. “Are they? I suppose I’m not that flavour then...what about you?”

“Oh! Well, my name’s Wick and this is Vyvyan.”

“No.” James hadn’t even made fun of Rick’s speech impediment. 

“No…?”

James sighed a weary sigh for someone so small. “No, what flavour crisps are you?”

“Monster Munch.” Vyvyan replied at the same time Rick said “Prawn Cocktail.”

James nodded sagely. “Ah.”

-

After many months of finagling and a lot of input from Mike (who’d greased a few palms on their behalf- “Sure you lads don’t just want one of mine? Must be hundreds of ‘em out there!”) they finally brang James home.

The adjustment period had been difficult. Vyvyan worked long hours at the clinic, and he’d come home to find James already in bed, Rick trying to stay up to meeting him but asleep on the couch surrounded by paternity books he was pretending to read.

He’d felt a little isolated when Rick would show him pieces of Jame’s school work, or pictures they’d taken at the zoo. They looked like father and son already.

The answer, however, came when James poked him awake at 3am on a Sunday sometime in early August.

“What?”

“I have a question.”

James was always full of questions.

“How do they make Jaffa-cakes? Do you think they smoosh the orange first or does it have to be humiliated to get that jammy?”

“When they made the tube do you think they wanted people to inhale coal dust or is it pumped in on purpose to make Londoners more miserable?”

“What’s the point of cardigans anyway? Just put on a jumper, why are you trying to escape? Don’t you want to be warm?”

Rick insisted that answering these questions were key to development. Vyv wondered which book he’d read that off the back of.

“S’3am James...go back to bed.”  
“S’important.”

There was a sniffle in the darkness that made Vyv’s eyes snap open.

James was rubbing fiercely at his eyes. 

Vyv had slid out of bed and gently yanked the boy up into his arms.

The wanker he shared a bed with was a notoriously light sleeper.

Taking James downstairs, and plopping him on the over-stuffed sofa, and then dumping a blanket over the boy’s head, Vyv crouched down in front of him. When Jame’s mop of hair appeared from under the blanket, he eyed the older man wearily.

“Are you going to give me a fiver to stop crying?”

“Nah, my wallet’s upstairs. What’s your question?”

James thumbed the soft blue blanket thoughtfully, and though his knees ached, Vyv stayed crouched in front of him.

“When are you and Rick going to send me back?”

Vyv’s barely there eyebrows raised. “Do...you want to go back?”

James shook his head. “I’d just...like a date.”

“Did..we do something wrong?”

“No.”

“Then why do you want to go back?”

“I don’t.”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.” Vyvyan stood and heavily fell onto the seat next to the lump of blanket and boy.

“I’m just used to people leavin’ is all.” James muttered. “I don’t wanna come home after school one day to here and have to hitchhike back to the home. It’s ruddy inconvenient.”

“You’re not going back. We...we’re a family now.” 

“Oh.” James seemed to contemplate this for a moment and then nodded. “Well, alright then.”

“Glad I answered your blimin’ question.” Vyv let his head fall back against the sofa.

“That wasn’t my question.”

Vyvyan groaned and let his arm fall over his eyes. “What?”

“...can I get my forehead pierced?”

Vyv grunted. “Ask your father.”

“I just did!”


End file.
